Part 1
"Giles, I can't do this," Willow sobbed, her voice cracking. "It's too hard. I can't control it, I can't. The power…it's so much bigger and stronger than I am. The magic feels so natural. It's like breathing. I can't stop breathing. Giles, it'd be so much easier to give in. I need help. I need more help. I'm not ready to be back here. I'm not ready to do this, not all alone. Please, please tell me you're on your way." She cried, whimpering into the phone for a moment. "Can you just, at least, call me when you get this message?"
Giles nodded and glanced at the half-open door across the hall. He frowned and knocked gently on the doorframe. Oz looked up from a stack of folded clothes on his bed.
"It's time."
Giles's frown deepened. "Do you really think you're ready?"
"Doesn't matter," Oz replied. "It's time. Do you really think she was ready?"
"The coven and I have done as much as we can," Giles objected.
"I need to help her."
"Which," Giles guessed, "is why you're packing."
"I'm going back. Again."
*~*
Devon shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look cool. The security guard scrutinized him and Devon glowered, resisting the urge to flick him off. The rock star slouched against a pillar, straightening when he saw Oz. A head of familiar, fire engine red spikes bobbed along, chest high to the nearest passenger. Devon grinned, taking his hands out of his pockets and standing up.
"Oz!" He called out.
"Dev," Oz replied.
Devon hesitated for a moment then hugged and quickly released Oz. "You back to stay this time, Little Bitch?"
"One can only hope," Oz said. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders.
Devon started telling Oz about the great girl he'd met, while they waited at the baggage claim. Once Oz had his duffel bag and his guitar, they went to the parking garage. Oz was oddly glad to see his old van again. They drove back to the Dingoes' lair, and Devon never quit talking.
*~*
Willow looked at the clock. She didn't have a class on Thursdays, so she was home alone. Buffy and Xander were at work, Dawn was in class. Spike was insane and Tara was dead, buried deep in the cold, hard ground. Tears flooded Willow's eyes. She rolled over, burying her face in the pillow and sobbed freely. She cried as hard as she could for as long as she could.
When Willow propped herself up on her elbows, her face was flushed, drenched with tears. Her hair was plastered to her blotchy cheeks. She crawled out of bed and wandered to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on her face, she looked up into the mirror. She patted her cheeks dry, wiped her puffy, reddened eyes with the back of her hand and combed her hair away from her face with her fingers. Willow sighed at her reflection, looking and feeling wretched, then went downstairs to find something to eat.
When the doorbell rang, Willow started. The paranoia was instantaneous. Who could be at the door? Willow imagined a hundred horrors in the few moments it took for her to reach the door. She had a spell in mind and she left the chain in place. Her imagination hadn't prepared her for the sight that greeted Willow when she opened the door. She fumbled with the chain for a moment, the spell forgotten. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, she stepped aside to allow Oz to enter.
"Hello," he said calmly.
"Hi," Willow squeaked.
"How are you?"
"I…" Her mind went blank. "What are you doing here?"
"Can we sit?" Oz asked, gesturing to the couch. Willow nodded mutely, closing the door. She sat at the opposite end of the sofa from Oz. "I'd been staying in England, with Giles," Oz explained. "Learning more about the wolf. I heard about what happened. And I heard the message you left for Giles," he admitted.
"Oh." Willow frowned. "So…you're here…?"
"To help you. Or to try." Oz looked down at his hands for a moment, then glanced up at Willow. "If that's okay."
"Help?" Willow repeated.
"I've learned a little about power versus control…"
Willow nodded. "Right," she said softly. "How's that going?"
Oz shrugged. "Better. But this is about you. How are you?"
"I've been better," Willow confessed. She felt her tears begin to well up again. "I'm scared…weak."
"You aren't weak, Willow. You might feel it, but I know better. You've already done the hardest part, Will, you stopped. When Xander spoke to you, you were strong enough to listen."
"But the power I felt," she objected. "It was so dark. And it's hard to fight. I'm really only doing this because I know that if I lose control again, I could lose myself to it completely. Do you have any idea how scary that is?"
Oz was silent for a moment, until Willow realized what she had asked. "It's part of you now. You can't get rid of that power," Oz said firmly. "You have to control it, because it will be with you until the day you die. It's scary but there's not much of a choice, Willow. Control it or be controlled by it."
"I don't want to be controlled by it," Willow replied. "But I killed a man. Not because of the power…because I was angry. I chose to do that."
"You can't change what you've done. You just… You can't wash the blood from your hands, but you can learn from what you did. The power to end someone's life is less compelling than the guilt that comes from knowing just how sacred and fragile life is."
"I didn't ever think how hard this would be."
Oz nodded sympathetically.
Willow sighed. "How do you do it?"
"I've been to Tibet and back, there aren't any shortcuts."
"I know," Willow interjected. "I know. Using magic as a shortcut was what started this whole thing. Trying to make everything easy. But…you've always been so calm, so cool…about everything. You made it look so easy, being in control of the wolf."
"You've never seen me successfully control it," Oz pointed out. "Under the worst of circumstances, I don't know if I could. Sometimes I don't think I can under normal circumstances. What you're dealing with is a lot more powerful than the beast. You're stronger than I've ever been."
"Maybe…maybe we can help each other," Willow offered.
"That's why I'm here."
*~*
Willow and Oz meditated together daily, he taught her some of the techniques he had learned in Tibet. She continually pushed for more information; if nothing else, it was a good distraction. Being with Oz made it easier to push away the pain she still felt over Tara's death. The more she pushed, the more he seemed to back away. Despite herself, Willow felt a strange tug, a longing to connect with Oz, the way they had once long ago. He began cutting their sessions short more and more often.
"What? No more wisdom to impart today?" she teased.
"If you try to learn to much too quickly, your head will hurt," Oz replied.
"Gee, that's very profound," Willow stated. "I'll try to remember that."
"Do or do not, there is no try," Oz retorted.
Willow couldn't help but giggle. "See you later, Yoda." That sparked an idea. Willow smiled to herself as Oz left.
*~*
Oz was hunched over a picnic table in the park. He scribbled in a notebook, his mind filled with notes and chords and lyrics. Oz was so enrapt in the process of songwriting, he didn't notice Willow approaching.
"Hey," the red-haired girl said, sitting next to him.
Oz looked up and closed his notebook. "Hey."
"Here," Willow said, pressing a newspaper wrapped package into his hand.
"What's this?" Oz inquired.
"It's a present, silly, just open it."
Oz accepted that, pulling away the paper. "It's a Yoda Pez dispenser," he observed.
"They, well, they still don't make a werewolf Pez. But I thought since you've been all mentor like with the 'use the force' and remember the other day when I called you Yoda 'cause you were quoting him? You hate it."
"No, it's perfect. He's short and green and speaks in non-sequitors."
"No. You know, he's really important to Luke. I mean, where would Luke be without Yoda?"
Oz smiled almost imperceptibly. "Thanks."
"I wanted you to know how glad I am that we're friends. You've helped me so much, not just with the meditation stuff – though, that's great – but with being here."
"I don't have anywhere else I need to be."
"Giles, I can't do this," Willow sobbed, her voice cracking. "It's too hard. I can't control it, I can't. The power…it's so much bigger and stronger than I am. The magic feels so natural. It's like breathing. I can't stop breathing. Giles, it'd be so much easier to give in. I need help. I need more help. I'm not ready to be back here. I'm not ready to do this, not all alone. Please, please tell me you're on your way." She cried, whimpering into the phone for a moment. "Can you just, at least, call me when you get this message?"
Giles nodded and glanced at the half-open door across the hall. He frowned and knocked gently on the doorframe. Oz looked up from a stack of folded clothes on his bed.
"It's time."
Giles's frown deepened. "Do you really think you're ready?"
"Doesn't matter," Oz replied. "It's time. Do you really think she was ready?"
"The coven and I have done as much as we can," Giles objected.
"I need to help her."
"Which," Giles guessed, "is why you're packing."
"I'm going back. Again."
*~*
Devon shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look cool. The security guard scrutinized him and Devon glowered, resisting the urge to flick him off. The rock star slouched against a pillar, straightening when he saw Oz. A head of familiar, fire engine red spikes bobbed along, chest high to the nearest passenger. Devon grinned, taking his hands out of his pockets and standing up.
"Oz!" He called out.
"Dev," Oz replied.
Devon hesitated for a moment then hugged and quickly released Oz. "You back to stay this time, Little Bitch?"
"One can only hope," Oz said. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders.
Devon started telling Oz about the great girl he'd met, while they waited at the baggage claim. Once Oz had his duffel bag and his guitar, they went to the parking garage. Oz was oddly glad to see his old van again. They drove back to the Dingoes' lair, and Devon never quit talking.
*~*
Willow looked at the clock. She didn't have a class on Thursdays, so she was home alone. Buffy and Xander were at work, Dawn was in class. Spike was insane and Tara was dead, buried deep in the cold, hard ground. Tears flooded Willow's eyes. She rolled over, burying her face in the pillow and sobbed freely. She cried as hard as she could for as long as she could.
When Willow propped herself up on her elbows, her face was flushed, drenched with tears. Her hair was plastered to her blotchy cheeks. She crawled out of bed and wandered to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on her face, she looked up into the mirror. She patted her cheeks dry, wiped her puffy, reddened eyes with the back of her hand and combed her hair away from her face with her fingers. Willow sighed at her reflection, looking and feeling wretched, then went downstairs to find something to eat.
When the doorbell rang, Willow started. The paranoia was instantaneous. Who could be at the door? Willow imagined a hundred horrors in the few moments it took for her to reach the door. She had a spell in mind and she left the chain in place. Her imagination hadn't prepared her for the sight that greeted Willow when she opened the door. She fumbled with the chain for a moment, the spell forgotten. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, she stepped aside to allow Oz to enter.
"Hello," he said calmly.
"Hi," Willow squeaked.
"How are you?"
"I…" Her mind went blank. "What are you doing here?"
"Can we sit?" Oz asked, gesturing to the couch. Willow nodded mutely, closing the door. She sat at the opposite end of the sofa from Oz. "I'd been staying in England, with Giles," Oz explained. "Learning more about the wolf. I heard about what happened. And I heard the message you left for Giles," he admitted.
"Oh." Willow frowned. "So…you're here…?"
"To help you. Or to try." Oz looked down at his hands for a moment, then glanced up at Willow. "If that's okay."
"Help?" Willow repeated.
"I've learned a little about power versus control…"
Willow nodded. "Right," she said softly. "How's that going?"
Oz shrugged. "Better. But this is about you. How are you?"
"I've been better," Willow confessed. She felt her tears begin to well up again. "I'm scared…weak."
"You aren't weak, Willow. You might feel it, but I know better. You've already done the hardest part, Will, you stopped. When Xander spoke to you, you were strong enough to listen."
"But the power I felt," she objected. "It was so dark. And it's hard to fight. I'm really only doing this because I know that if I lose control again, I could lose myself to it completely. Do you have any idea how scary that is?"
Oz was silent for a moment, until Willow realized what she had asked. "It's part of you now. You can't get rid of that power," Oz said firmly. "You have to control it, because it will be with you until the day you die. It's scary but there's not much of a choice, Willow. Control it or be controlled by it."
"I don't want to be controlled by it," Willow replied. "But I killed a man. Not because of the power…because I was angry. I chose to do that."
"You can't change what you've done. You just… You can't wash the blood from your hands, but you can learn from what you did. The power to end someone's life is less compelling than the guilt that comes from knowing just how sacred and fragile life is."
"I didn't ever think how hard this would be."
Oz nodded sympathetically.
Willow sighed. "How do you do it?"
"I've been to Tibet and back, there aren't any shortcuts."
"I know," Willow interjected. "I know. Using magic as a shortcut was what started this whole thing. Trying to make everything easy. But…you've always been so calm, so cool…about everything. You made it look so easy, being in control of the wolf."
"You've never seen me successfully control it," Oz pointed out. "Under the worst of circumstances, I don't know if I could. Sometimes I don't think I can under normal circumstances. What you're dealing with is a lot more powerful than the beast. You're stronger than I've ever been."
"Maybe…maybe we can help each other," Willow offered.
"That's why I'm here."
*~*
Willow and Oz meditated together daily, he taught her some of the techniques he had learned in Tibet. She continually pushed for more information; if nothing else, it was a good distraction. Being with Oz made it easier to push away the pain she still felt over Tara's death. The more she pushed, the more he seemed to back away. Despite herself, Willow felt a strange tug, a longing to connect with Oz, the way they had once long ago. He began cutting their sessions short more and more often.
"What? No more wisdom to impart today?" she teased.
"If you try to learn to much too quickly, your head will hurt," Oz replied.
"Gee, that's very profound," Willow stated. "I'll try to remember that."
"Do or do not, there is no try," Oz retorted.
Willow couldn't help but giggle. "See you later, Yoda." That sparked an idea. Willow smiled to herself as Oz left.
*~*
Oz was hunched over a picnic table in the park. He scribbled in a notebook, his mind filled with notes and chords and lyrics. Oz was so enrapt in the process of songwriting, he didn't notice Willow approaching.
"Hey," the red-haired girl said, sitting next to him.
Oz looked up and closed his notebook. "Hey."
"Here," Willow said, pressing a newspaper wrapped package into his hand.
"What's this?" Oz inquired.
"It's a present, silly, just open it."
Oz accepted that, pulling away the paper. "It's a Yoda Pez dispenser," he observed.
"They, well, they still don't make a werewolf Pez. But I thought since you've been all mentor like with the 'use the force' and remember the other day when I called you Yoda 'cause you were quoting him? You hate it."
"No, it's perfect. He's short and green and speaks in non-sequitors."
"No. You know, he's really important to Luke. I mean, where would Luke be without Yoda?"
Oz smiled almost imperceptibly. "Thanks."
"I wanted you to know how glad I am that we're friends. You've helped me so much, not just with the meditation stuff – though, that's great – but with being here."
"I don't have anywhere else I need to be."
